In the Wake of Dragons
by The Shadows Will
Summary: The Last Dragonborn has stood victorious as the Emperor of Tamriel for over a thousand years. Now he seeks an end, the final rest inside Shor's Hall calls to him. Almost unkillable he may not enter Sovngarde easily, luckily the ruins of Skuldafn provide him an escape. Only it was not to be, now he must contend with a new world. Expanded upon my other work "Word of the Dragon".
1. Chapter 1

Word of the Dragon

 _Today I journey with my companions to face the World Eater in Sovngarde. It sounds to me like a tall tale a bard would weave for young children. Riding atop the backs of our allys the Dragons Paarthurnax and Odahviing we shall fly off to do battle with a legend in the land of the God Shor. With me my faithful Housecarl Lydia forever bearing my burdens, Vilkas and Farkas Companions in truth, Ulfric Stormcloak the would-be King, and Aranea Lenith the last Priestess of Azura. We shall ride into legend as either the conquering heroes or the fools who thought themselves capable of matching Alduin. I leave this as evidence of our choice to stand tall as proud warriors of Skyrim and of Tamriel._

* * *

 _It is done. The World Eater is defeated, but not I think dead. There was no soul for me to consume, his hide and bones burned to ash then were swept away by the ethereal winds of Sovngarde. Can you truly kill the World Eater? We lost many to the Black Dragon. Both Odahviing and Paarthurnax were unable to journey with us to the final confrontation, lacking such destructive power on our side was a heavy blow. If not for the endless horde of honored dead within Shor's Hall we would not have succeeded. I along with my companions fought side by side with legends such as Olaf One-eye, Jurgen Windcaller, and even Ysgramor himself. Like an endless tide the great warriors of the past poured out through the Hall of Valor and did battle with the most ancient of foe of Man._

 _No words could possibly describe the skill of arms of those brave men and women. Many were consumed or killed by Alduin in that mythical place. Unburdened by the mortal realm and fortified by the souls of the dead Alduin was able to use the full extent of his power. It was the combined might of hundreds of users of the Voice that brought the World Bane low. Crippling his wings and robbing him of his flight was what won us the battle. His fall from the sky dealt him more harm than all our previous efforts combined. Like a horde of ants we converged upon his form hacking and slashing hoping to end the wyrm. As if directed by the hands of fate itself I was the one who struck the final blow, wielding Volendrung I was able to breach his thick scales and drive bone deep into his skull._

 _Of those that journeyed with me Ulfric and Farkas were slain only to be reborn in Sovngarde as the Honored Dead. For our actions each one of my surviving companions was awarded with something, I dare not ask what as this trial was unlike any other I have encountered. To compare rewards would be to cheapen them. I myself was given the ability to call forth the shade of any of the great warriors in Sovngarde to fight besides me. Before Tsun sent us back Ulfric asked a boon of me for the price of his aid and death. He asked that I help restore Skyrim to what it once was and what it could be again._

* * *

 _I had thought that my role as the Dragonborn had come to a close with the defeat of Alduin, I was wrong. With each telling of my journey my legend grew_ _and my story was told again until_ _it reached the shores of Solstheim._ _There the rumors of my deeds_ _found the ear of Miraak. He felt affronted by the masses calling me Dragonborn so he engineered a confrontation. Into the depths of Apocrypha Lydia and I were forced to tread to find him. Along the way my power grew. From the Black Books of Hermaeus Mora_ _the ability to wield magic as a mage was unlocked within me_ _. As a Dragonborn I learned new words of power. Some of which were so terrifyingly in their scope and power that I have not since used them for it is my sincere belief that they should best be lost to history._ _I have since gone back and destroyed any mention or depiction of those Words._ _Other_ _Word Walls_ _gave me_ _the ability to shroud myself with the ethereal_ _form of a Dragon._ _My faithful companion Lydia and I_ _did battle with him and his dragon thralls only to come out of the incident victorious. It appears to me now that the whole event was put in motion by Hermaeus Mora, as to what purpose I do not know. I have since searched through every source I could for tale of his deeds but Miraak the First Dragonborn remains a mysterious figure in history._

* * *

 _For years I was busy mending the broken land of Skyrim, putting down bandits, putting down petty squabbles between Jarls, and unifying the people under one name. It was within this time that Ragnar Torenson, Dragonborn, and Ysmir became the High King of Skyrim. If not for the presence of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater I fear even now I would be trying to unify my homeland. With my ascendance to the throne and relocation to the Blue Palace I was forced to confront a troubling part of Skyrims past. It seems that Pelagius the Mad was driven into insanity by the Madgod himself. At the end of the ordeal a few things became clear to me. Sheogorath had indeed been replaced by the Hero of Kvatch and Jyggalag had been freed. This new Madgod was of a lighter tone than the previous and was in some way atoning for his predecessors transgressions. I was given the Wabbajack for my efforts, I have locked the staff in my lowest and most secure vault where I hope it will never see the light of day again._

* * *

 _With the assassination of Emperor Titus Meade II the world fell into chaos once again. It was later learned it was the work of the Dark Brotherhood in an attempt to relive their glory days. The Empire crumbled within months of the Emperors death, his heir was unable to manage the internal and external strains the position forced upon him. It looked as if the Aldmeri Dominion would swoop in and seize everything. It is fortunate that a civil war rendered them inert. A group of scholars and mages uncovered the truth of the Void Nights, the event that led the Khajiit to ally with the Elves. As it turned out it was a Thalmor plot that went awry, but the ensuing chaos ended up leading the beast folk of Elsweyr into joining the Dominion. With the plot uncovered the Khajiit seceded, violently._

 _It was during this time that a coven of Vampires were attempting to bring eternal darkness upon all of Tamriel. My hand was forced and the Dragonborn once again took to the field of battle, accompanied by my ever faithful companion Lydia. Oddly enough it was with help from one of their own that allowed me to prevent the Unending Kingdom of Night. To make a long story short I saved the world and killed many vampires and Falmer. As a minor side note it should be noted that a true Falmer has been found. Not one of those twisted wretches the Dwemer cursed us with but a true Snow Elf. Gelebor believes there may be small holdouts of true Snow Elves hidden deep from the eyes of man and Mer._

* * *

 _It finally occurred to me that Lydia had not been by my side through everything solely due too_ _her_ _duty_ _as my Housecarl or loyalty to the Dragonborn_ _. I have taken Lydia as wife and have her rule as Queen by my side. Our marriage and her subsequent appointment to Queen was met with mixed reactions. Many wish I took a more diplomatic approach to my marriage and_ _wedded_ _someone who would benefit the Kingdom. But most of the common folk saw_ _the uniting of_ _me_ _and_ _Lydia, a woman who helped slay Alduin, as something out of a song_ _and legend_ _. Our daughter Helga was born a little over a year after the wedding._

* * *

 _The surviving government of Cyrodil has asked for Skyrims help in repelling the Aldmeri. I called a moot to determine the course Skyrim would take. In the Mead Hall of the Companions every man woman and faction of importance was represented. The Jarls of each Hold, Arngeir of the Greybeards, Vilkas Harbinger of the Companions, Karliah Master of the Thieves Guild, Archmage Savos Aren of the College of Winterhold were among the most notable. There was also representatives from each Craft Guild, Orc Stronghold, and the newly reformed blades. Skyrim would march to war once again. Any man or woman capable of wielding a weapon was given the chance to fight under the banner of the Dragon King. Any criminal was given the chance for a pardon by joining the growing army. Most of the remaining bandit groups brought about by the civil war were persuaded to join. These criminals needed a purpose in their life and this war fulfilled that need. A few of the more violent Dragons had agreed to accompany us on our journey. I left Lydia and Jarl Balgruuf in control of Skyrim as I lead the army south. With me and the Dragons the forces of the Dominion were quickly turned aside. What I thought could take years took months. Upon breaking the backs of the Dominion forces besieging the Imperial city our forces were celebrated as heroes. Within a week the Imperial Council, instituted after the death of Titus Meade II, proclaimed me Emperor._

* * *

 _We continued to march against the elves. As we entered Elsweyr and then Valenwood we were not seen as invading army of foreigners but as saviors. It seems that the oppressive yolk of the Thalmor was less well received than our reports had reveled. It was at this point that Black Marsh, High Rock, and Hammerfell forces joined with us. Our forces fell on the Summerset Isles like a hammer on glass. Any Thalmor or Thalmor sympathizers were summarily butchered, it was not our proudest moment. It was while searching the seat of the Thalmor's power that we stumbled upon their true goal. The destruction of the **Towers** , the very anchors of the physical world, and the return to life before Mundus. My previous notions of regret for butchering the Thalmor were forgotten. We moved to stabilize Tamriel, both politically and metaphysically. While away from Skyrim trouble was brewing. The Blades while most of their reconstituted order had marched with the army some had remained behind and those few were hatching a dark plot. As an ancient order of dragon hunters their long held grudge against the ancient Dovah overlords compelled them to seek the death of Paarthurnax. For whatever reason they decided to completely ignore the fact that the uprising of man and the eventual victory in the Dragon Wars were entirely due to Paarthurnax's action. The plan was foiled but the death of the Greybeard Einarth was the price. Even in the furthest reaches of Tamriel could Einarth's dying roar be heard and felt. To say that attacking the Greybeards, the most holy and revered order in Skyrim, was a foolish action was an understatement. The leadership of the Blades were executed or exiled and the order itself dissolved. In its place I created the Order of the Scale to function as the Royal Guard and my right hand. A similar plot was hatched by the Dark Brotherhood, they sought to assassinate my wife and child. The deaths of two Imperial Royals were too much of a chance for them to pass up. It too was averted, but this time at the cost of the life of Jarl Balgruuf and a handful of loyal men and women. My reprisal has become a cautionary tale that will be told in hushed tones for centuries to come. I have taken their sacrificial blade as a trophy and I have had the Night Mothers desecrated corpse decorating the walls of Solitude._

* * *

 _It has been many years since I have last made an entry in this journal, I became so busy with my life that many small things fell by the wayside. But I can no longer put this off._ _The first time I absorbed the soul of a dragon I knew it changed me forever, but I had no way of knowing to what extent. As the years past and I settled into my position as Emperor I began to notice time marched on for everyone but me. My children grew to adults and married, my wife aged, my friends grew old, and my body seemed to take no notice. I look today as I did thirty years ago. At first I thought it my parentage, my mother being half elf I thought I might expect a longer life than most Nords. But I was wrong, it was after a conversation with Paarthurnax that I discovered the secret behind my lack of aging. Dragons are eternal, outside the flow of time he had told me._ _Before I was Dragonborn I was man but my_ _soul_ _wa_ _s that of a Dragon. With each Dragon soul I consume I become stronger_ _and moved closer to my draconian destiny._ _During the days of Alduin I fought and killed twelve dragons, not including the World Eater_ _himself_ _. When I defeated Miraak I took his soul_ _as he too was Dragonborn_ _and_ _with him_ _all the Dragons he had killed_ _over the centuries_ _. I estimate_ _more than_ _twenty made up his power. Since I became High King no less than twenty six dragons have fallen to my Hammer. Few dragons have the resolve to meditate on the words of power like Paarthurnax and turn aside their nature of conquest and power. Will I be doomed to walk these lands forever? Will I bear witness to the end of time where Alduin is reborn and destroys this world?_

* * *

 _That old Orc I met all those years ago had the right idea. Die a good death so that you do not waste away. The problem is that I am to most Men and Mer unkillable. My skin is like Steel my bones Ebony. With my bare hands I can crush rocks to dust. With my voice I can call upon armies._ _With my_ Voice _I can shake mountain._ _My wife and children have long since passed on. I approach my three hundredth year with no end in sight. While I retain the title Emperor I let my many times great grandchild rule as regent. When one has nothing but time on their hands one must keep themselves busy. I have explored my the width and breath of my Magic that had been unlocked by the Black Books all those years ago. I do not claim to be a genius or prodigy with the magical arts but given enough time even a carpenters son can become an Archmage._

* * *

 _I keep myself busy with trade crafts these days. After I grew bored of Magic I returned to my roots and took up wood working. Seventy years I dedicated to carpentry alone. As I did with many other professions. I occasionally auction off my work just to see what sort of reaction they generate, after spending hundreds of years refining my skills I can safely say my work sells for a tidy sum._

* * *

 _No wonder Dragons seek conquest and dominion, eternity is boring. How Paarthurnax has remained sane is a mystery to me._

* * *

 _I am an absentee Emperor. Once my next heir is appointed as regent I tend to disappear for decades on end. This time I have moved to Hammerfell and found some no name town out in the middle of no where. I have opened up a smithy, most days I make or repair plows. Occasionally I will be commissioned to make a knife or sword but for the most part it is peaceful here._

* * *

 _It seams my life of obscurity is over. My pursuit of metalcraft has undone me. One of my knives caught the eye of a traveling merchant. He bought it. He sold it. The customer came to me looking to commission a sword or something. but as it turns out he was a rich fop who knew what the Emperor looked like. Having a overdressed dandy drop to his knees and greet his leader in the middle of town is a sure way to ruin your day. Time to move on, maybe basket weaving?_

* * *

 _My descendant, the current Regent, got himself killed doing something stupid. With his death the last drop of Lydia's blood has left this world. I should feel sad or angry. All I feel is numb. And annoyed, now I have to retake the throne and create a new line of rulers. Perhaps some sort of council system instead._

* * *

 _My monotony has been broken up finally. The Sload have once again set their sights on Tamriel. I shall once again don my weapons and armor. Let us see if these creatures can entertain me._

* * *

 _I have crushed the Sload and have all but ended their ambitions for generations to come. It seems the Daedric Prince Meridia was pleased with my extermination of the Sload's Necromantic Cabals. She has rewarded me with Dawnbreaker under the promise that I remove all undead that comes before my eyes. During our brief interaction I found her to be pleasant company, if not a little fanatical, I don't know why people are so terrified of the Daedric Princes. So far I have had dealings with Azura, Malacath, Hircine, Hermaeus Mora, Sheogorath, and Meridia. None of them seem to hide what they really are and what they really want which is a welcome reprieve from the politicians that infest the Imperial Capital. I think I shall search out the rest of the Deadric Princes if for no other reason than to alleviate the boredom._

* * *

 _I think I hate Molag Bal almost as much as I hate Peryite._

* * *

 _My wandering in search of the Daedric Princes have opened up new opportunities for me. I shall set out on a grand adventure and seek out sights no one has seen before._

* * *

 _Skyrim is cold, Atmora is colder. I do not recommend you go there. Conversely Akavir is a beautiful place with a rich culture. If only there were no native inhabitants. I do not recommend you go there._

* * *

 _Once again my line has gone extinct. This time it wasn't because of stupidity. Some sort of magically created plague is spreading through Cyrodil, the death toll is catastrophic. With the death of Serana IX Imperial Regent I am once again forced to take the throne. I do not think i can take seeing any more of my descendants die, each time it happens I feel a little more numb to the world. First I shall find the source of this plague and purge it with Dragon fire then I will install some sort of council or elected leadership of the empire._

* * *

 _Some say that greatness is born, I have found this to be the furthest from the truth. Greatness is forged in the heat of the moment, tempered by our actions, and sharpened by the lives of those that surround us. Many see my rise to prominence and then to power as nothing more than destiny, an immutable fact foretold by the Elder Scrolls. They see me as Tiber Septim come again, Shor reborn, a Nord proclaimed Dragonborn who would unite Tamriel under one banner. Some factions have begun to see me as Talos made flesh, a God King and have tried to raise me up as a god to the masses. I have done what I can to suppress these notions. I am no god, and I have no designs to be one… though now that I think about it it wouldn't be too difficult._

 _I grow weary of life. It is difficult to watch a friend wither and die before you e_ _ven more so to see it happen to your children, where there should be pain all I feel is emptiness._ _The only reason I believe I have_ _staved off the madness_ _is because_ _of the few individuals who are as_ _eternal as I. Constant discourse with Paarthurnax Odahviing_ _and Geleborn_ _are all I have to look forward to these days. But even that has grown stale,_ _you can only hear a story so many times before it becomes hollow_ _. It occurs to me that_ _the minds and hearts of_ _men are finite things and should not ex_ _ist forever. As I_ _watch my twelve hundredth nameday pass m_ _e_ _by I feel that my time has come to a close._ _I have born witness to the death of Gods, the rise and fall of kingdoms, the birth and death of heroes, and the end of my line twice._ _My goal is Sovngarde, but I cannot find an opponent who c_ _ould kill me in a way that would allow me entry to Shor's Hall._ _It is fortunate that I know the_ _location of the backdoor so to speak._ _In the ruins of Skuldafn lie a_ _gateway_ _to the end. I leave this collection of memories for any who might find a use for them. I_ _go to the end undefeated by any and yet I will never stand victorious because time cannot be fought._

 _ **Emperor Ragnar Torenson First of his Name. Dragon King Eternal. High King of Skyrim. Ysmir. Dragonborn. Elvesbane.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Dovahkiin: Dragon of the North Chapter 1

 _I have entered the portal at Skuldafn, I had hoped it would lead me to Sovngarde and to peace of mind. It seems that the gods are not done yet with me. This second journey through the gate was vastly different. My first trip had been like stepping through a door into a world covered in fog. This time it was as if I was submerged in water, floating without ground beneath me nor sky above. But it was not water for it held no substance and while there I had no need to breath. There is no way I can accurately describe the feeling, but isn't that what the gods are supposed to be? Unknowable? Inconceivable to the human mind even for someone such as myself. Once I entered the portal the voices of what I can only assume were the Nine Divines told me I had a choice venture onto Shor's Hall and finally find the end I desired or begin a new journey. The Divines told me that others could use my help on the dark road ahead. If the divines would ask for my help I could only imagine the danger of the trials ahead. It was through divine providence and the hands of fate that I came closest to death. If on this new crusade I might meet my end I can finally rest without having to cheat my way into Sovngarde. I gave my answer then it felt as if I were moving and then there was darkness._

* * *

 _It was not the jagged rocks but the oppressive heat that awoke me. I was lying in the middle of a dessert. Craggy hills and dusty winds my only companions. Though the gods would seem to be testing me with the point of my return they were gracious enough to at least leave me with my equipment. My original plan had been to journey off to Sovngarde and spend the rest of eternity in the company of legends. I had dressed for such. Covered almost entirely in Ebony Armor of my own making. The chest piece was once the Daedric armor the Ebony Mail, a gift from Boethiah. Upon my head I wore Nahkriin, the mask I won at Skuldafn, affixed to an ebony shell. My weapons of choice were Volendrung, the Hammer of Might and Alduin's Fall, on my back. Dawnbreaker, Bane of the Dead, at my hip. And the Blade of Woe, the Assassin's Blade, on my thigh. In my satchel I carried with me an assortment artifacts baubles and relics of my long life. In essence I had hoped to arrive in the Hall of Heroes with my full power._

 _This desert was reminiscent of Elsweyr but I could not be sure. I could very well be in Hammerfell for all I know. Using the sun I decided to go East to either Cyrodil or Skyrim depending on where I am. I started walking throughout the day resting only at night. It is a fool whole walks a desert in full plate with no water._

* * *

 _The_ _night here is wrong_ _. I do not recognize any constellations. I have been to Akaviri,_ _Thras,_ _and Atmora_ _and each time I moved great distances the stars would move as well but at the same time remain familiar._ _But even more glaring and terrifying is the presence of only one moon, and even that celestial body bore no resemblance to Masser or Secunda._ _Could the world have changed that much while I was away? Could I not be_ _o_ _n Tamriel but some far off continent?_ _Maybe even a plane of Oblivion?_ _This uncertainty is a feeling that has been forgotten by me for many years, it is refreshing in a way. It brings to me a sense of mortality that I have deeply missed. If nothing else this last quest will have brought me some measure of comfort._

 _It is only now that the sun is down that I realize the air here is odd to. I thought it the scorching heat had muddled my senses but even the very air is queer. I feel like I am atop the Throat of the world where the air is thin. The idea of this desert residing on some grand plateau occurred to me but with each breath I can tell that this is not the case. The air is till there but it fells like its missing something. Another mystery I have to solve._

* * *

 _I always thought that I made my armor fairly comfortable, designed and modified for extended use in battle. It seems I still have much to learn in the art of smithing. Day in and day out of wearing heavy metal in a desert has become a daunting task. My physical prowess makes it possible if not pleasant, I could have left the larger or less comfortable pieces behind but I had spent so much time and effort working on the damned thing that my pride would not allow it. I should have brought that magical bag. A curious creation that; Weightless and has enough space inside to fit a Senche-Raht, but alas hindsight is perfect. I have taken to carrying Volendrung over my shoulder with the breast and backplate hanging off it. My helmet stripped of its hood I have affixed to my belt. The cowl is so far my only source of shade in this fucking place, no trees or large enough rocks to seek shelter under._

* * *

 _There were no animals to hunt or water sources to drink. I could go weeks without food or water if there were no other options, but it is fortuitous that I have magic. While I could not use it to produce food, water was an entirely different matter. It was when I first tried to use an adapted Frost spell to conjure some water that I discovered the problem with the air. The magic of this land was thinner than just about anywhere else I have ever been, almost to the point of nonexistence. It also carried different taste too it if that makes any sense, the best I can liken it too is like comparing two different bottles of wine. I thought this discrepancy with the Magicka could be the new adventure the Divines sought for me to combat. A thinning of the worlds magic would be disastrous. A Mage must draw magic from the world around them to refill their resrves after having cast a spell. If prolonged use of magic became too difficult then the wizards of the world would panic and that would lead to chaos. It could be caused by any number of factors. A loss of connection to Aetherius. An individual or group could have found a way to hord vast amounts of Magicka for some purpose. A Daedric Prince could be trying to take over Nirn once again. The nature of the world could have changed. None of my ideas or their consequences were pleasant. It did strike me as odd that it was only a short time since I left that the problem arose. Could the Divines have hurtled me through time. As the chief deity and master of time Akatosh must be capable of something of that nature._

 _It was harder to cast spells than what I'm used too, the very air seemed to want to suck out the Magicka from any thing I cast. To a normal wizard this would make things exceedingly difficult but to me it was but another annoyance. In an odd bout of good luck my Voice was in no way impacted. I theorize that as the Thu'um is an innate ability of Dragons that the power of the Words come not from the world but the souls of the Dragons themselves. And as a dragon in all but shape I am left unaffected by the current circumstances. I was able to use the Storm Call Shout to bring a strong rain to these barren lands._

* * *

 _After a few weeks of travel and liberal use of the Voice the once desolate landscape was beginning to show signs of change. I would stumble upon small waterholes and even the occasional wildlife. Nothing beyond a mouse or snake but some signs of life were a positive change. The soil no longer looked as dry and dead, maybe if I kept it up for a few more months I would begin to see green._

* * *

A/N

I have played Oblivion and Skyrim to completion multiple times (skyrim a few too many if im being honest). I have dabbled with Morrowind but never finished because the game mechanics annoyed me. And I have not touched the others. So I am basing most of my knowledge off what I learned in Oblivion and Skyrim along with a generous helping of Wikia. Should you see anything wrong factually drop me a PM or review and I will assess the problem.


	3. Chapter 3

Dovahkiin: Dragon of the North Chapter 2

 _Another week of this horrid place. It would have long ago killed a common man but what is the heat of the sun compared to that of a dragon's breath. I have begun subsiding off of the various lizards and snakes that I have started to come out after the daily rain. They are not species that I am familiar with but that is no surprise as during most of my travels I avoided the deserts as much as I could. No true born Nord would travel to a desert if they could avoid it. As a point of interest the brightly colored lizards are highly poisonous. I was lost in a haze of illusions for two or more days. The fact that I am affected at all by these reptiles is telling of how dangerous they are._

* * *

 _This morning when I crested a large hill I found the first sign of civilization in over a month. An abandoned mine lay at the base of the hill. An old dirt road led to the North East. My guess is that it is a silver mine that dried up some time ago and was abandoned. Judging by the state of the wooden support beams and the condition of the road it was last used within fifty years or more. The likely hood of people being somewhere down that road is fairly high unless it too is abandoned with the death of the mine._

 _I began searching the mine with a few tricks I picked up at the Arcane University from a mage focused on the magical effects of metals and crystals. The first was a specially designed high powered shock spell. It works by sending out a pulse of energy that interacts with metals for some reason I never bothered to learn. In essence it is a detect life spell but for metal. I had only ever used it to find and stun armored bandits in dark rooms before, it is somewhat rewarding to use it for its actual purpose. I got a few traces of metal, mostly from the iron nails in the wooden beams, and some scant readings from some unworked walls. Thin veins that weren't worth most peoples time. Luckily I am not most people. To my great shame I used Volendrung to free as much of the metal that I could. A mixture of iron and silver with a smattering of various other impurities. It would be enough for my purposes._

 _I gathered what I could of the ore and any scrap metal laying around, it was not much. I formed a small recess in a rock with my hammer. Once I find a proper forge I will have to perform some proper maintenance on the legendary Hammer of Might. I then employed the mages second gift to me. The Alteration Spell Liquefaction forces unrefined metal to change into a fluid state, as why it has to be unrefined metal I could not remember. It was lucky for me that the iron had rusted enough that the spell was able to affect it. I was able to get maybe a pound of liquified metal to collect into my makeshift bowl. Why did I do this? For the gold. Most advanced civilizations use gold or the like as currency. So using the obscure Alteration Spell Transmute I began to turn my near worthless puddle of metal into my very valuable puddle of gold. Then a quick blast of heat to solidify it and I had something to barter with. I was perhaps the reason why Transmute was an obscure spell, once I became High King I tracked down the mage who invented it and made her realize the error of her ways. I wouldn't have some enterprising mage ruin the economy of the entire continent. Unfortunately for her I had all of the research notes and copy's of the spell destroyed._

* * *

 _I camped in the mine for the night then set off down the road early this morning._

 _I sincerely believe that this journal is the only thing keeping me sane in this inhospitable land. It originally started as a series of notes that I used to keep track of various things throughout my life. Little tricks or reminders for my profession as a carpenter. Then it grew to add facts or skills or names that I knew I would forget if no record was kept. It has since evolved to one of the last anchors in my life. Great swathes of my memory are gone, forgotten as the ages continue to pass me by. Back in the imperial city I kept a complete record of my descendants, it started as a few sheets of parchment but had grown into a book a few hundred pages long._

* * *

AN

Each entry may or may not be right after another. These are are just snippets from a larger collection


	4. Chapter 4

Dovahkiin: Dragon of the North Chapter 3

 _The mountains that have been growing in the distance lay far behind the ruins of a small town. The towns inhabitants probably left when the mine dried up, and when they left they took everything of value. The buildings are mostly dirt construction with some wood or stone scattered throughout. It is plain to see that it was never a rich or prosperous place to live. The well in the center of town has long since dried up whether due to lack of maintenance or natural causes I will never know. I could not salvage much of anything. I spent the night in its ancient bones then continued on the road come the next day._

* * *

 _The other day I summoned a Frost Atronach and stood in its cooling presence until it dispelled, I can honestly say that has been highpoint of my time here. The road continues on towards those mountains without any sign of stopping. I grow weary of living off snakes and lizards. I would gladly fight Alduin in single combat if only for a leg of lamb. With braised beef, and roasted goat with mint sauce. And Blackbriar meed. And sweetrolls. And Juniper crostata. And… i'm hungry I hate this place._

* * *

 _As I draw closer to the mountains I am beginning to see bits of green. Small stalks of grass or even the odd shrubs. I have been making liberal use of the Storm Call Shout to encourage the growth of more green. It is a nice change of pace._

* * *

 _It worked! My offering of rain to the gods have brought me a feast! A wild goat has been sighted in the distance. I shall dine well today._

* * *

 _It was an old and scrawny thing but it was delicious. I buried and named it in thanks of its gift to me. Let it be know that Ulfric the goat has become my favorite four legged creature to have ever existed._

* * *

 _Looking back at my last couple entries I see that hunger almost got the better of me. If not for Ulfric the goat I might have been forced to do something desperate. I can vaguely recall that I attempted to summon Paarthurnax and Odahviiing only to have failed. I worry that in my confused state I might have tried to fly using magic. With how spotty the ambient Magicka is it would have probably killed me had I succeeded._

* * *

 _I have found a road. A well traveled road! It goes South toward the flatlands or Northeast through the mountains. Given how disastrous my choice in going East was I've decided to go South. But truly the real reason is that I don't wish to climb any mountains. They don't even appear to have any snow._

* * *

 _From my vantage point among the hills I can spot a caravan off in the distance! I don't know how long it has been since I've seen people, a month or two at least. I am undecided as to how I should approach them. I do not want to confront them in full armor but I do not want to abandon my equipment either._

* * *

 _It took a while for me to catch up to them but they were slow with a fairly large caravan sixteen carts with accompanying guards, horses, and walkers. As I drew near the caravan came to a halt. Some of the guards approached me. I had decided to introduce myself as I had been for as long as I had been in the desert. Covered in dirt, wearing stinking sweat soaked clothes, with my armor haphazardly hanging off my Hammer. I looked like someone who had gotten lost for a few days out in the desert. It wasn't far from the truth. The problem was that I had fine armor and weapons. Volendrung and my Ebony armor draw attention wherever I go, but they really stand out in comparison to what each of the guards were wearing. They had simple leather armor covering their torso only. A spiked metal helmet. A spear and a short sword. Given their armaments they must fight quick and nimble. It became apparent quickly that we couldn't understand each other. A merchant by the looks of his lack of physique tried to speak to me in another language. That too I did not understand. He tried in a third still to no avail._

 _Long story short I bought my way into the caravan with my gold nugget._

* * *

 _They either felt bad enough for me or I paid enough to warrant riding in the carts. I attached myself to the wagon driver and tried to pry as much information out of him as possible. He was a young man probably seen as many as ten and five namedays. He was a very excitable fellow. It was slow going for the most part I could not make head or tails of their language. In my time as the absentee Emperor of Tamriel I learned four languages, not including the written word of the Falmer. To hear these people speak was both frustrating and worrying. I was truly not on Tamriel anymore. But my sense of adventure had returned and I no longer felt the lingering presence of eternity weighing down on me so heavily._

 _I learned the name of the driver was Golo, and we were going to the city of Carth to trade silks and other such finery. The tongue they were speaking was called Valerian. I picked up many random words, horse food water sword hammer armor smith and so on. When we stopped for the nights I would help out wherever I could. Lifting, carrying, lighting fires, rubbing down horses, standing guard, entertaining the few children. A few of the axles on the carts broke and I can safely say I was instrumental in helping to fix them. All together it was a pleasant experience, until I leaned about our guards._

 _They are called what I can only hazard a guess means is the Clean or Pure. Slave soldiers who are for the most part devoid of individuality. These men have been castrated and are forced into a lifetime of service, granted freedom only by death. They are seemingly tireless and do not talk more than is strictly necessary. I cannot even fathom the trials these men must have faced to become the way they are. I want to do something. I want to free them, but I can tell they do not even consider it. They are so broken they can hardly be considered men. Slaves have long been banned in Tamriel, whether that was for logistical or moral reasons I cannot recall, to see it so plainly presented before me is painful. Once I get my bearings I will do something about this practice of slave soldiers._

* * *

 _It had been just shy of two weeks when the scent of the ocean hit me. I was able to put together that we would be arriving at Carth in a day or so. I had learned a lot on my ride with these people. Golo was the youngest brother of the head merchant Minolith, the one who had allowed me to join their wagon train, he was journeying out from home for the first time. Their father traded in silks or owned a business that produced silk or worked for a business that produced silk, i'm not quite sure. He had sent his oldest and youngest sons to barter in his name in Carth._

* * *

 _Carth came into view. It was a grand sight. A bastion of civilization against the backdrop of wastelands. High walls stood resolute against the deserts heat. These walls were far more grand than any in Tamriel. These massive feats of human endeavor were comprised of different colored stone with a variety of designs carved in great detail. A small line of wagons and people stood outside their gates seeking entrance. Once the head merchant spoke to the city watch we were quickly ushered in._

 _The buildings and overall feel of Carth is similar to many of the larger towns in Hammerfell. Large open markets dot the city selling everything from food to weapons to people. There are a variety of races present here, some of which I have never seen before. As a pale skinned Nord I drew much attention. I believe Golo was offered a chance to sell me at least a few times. It is fortunate that he declined such offers as I have no wish to shed blood now. Among the crowds I spied a few pale skinned men usually in a miss match of armor. Golo tells me they are Westrosy, and come from the lands far to the West and across water. After approaching a few of them it became apparent that we did not speak the same tongue. But I figure that if their skin is pale then their home must be of much more agreeable weather._

 _I saw some magic among the streets of Carth. Parlor tricks is more accurate. Small gouts of flame, simple illusions, and basic potions were the extent of the magicians crafts I could find. The potions I browsed seemed to be pathetically weak in strength and seriously lacking in diversity. Still for those dabblers performing for the crowds it seemed that the populace was seeing something rare and mysterious. It may be that magic has been in this lessened state for so many years that it has become more of a curiosity than a fact of life. But for it to cause the very ingredients in potions to become so weak as to be almost useless is a terrifying thought._

 _Minolith was kind enough to change what remained of my gold into coins and gave them to me. Either the amount I gave hm was far too much and he is giving the remainder to me because he has some sort of moral code or the amount I gave him was much too much and he is giving me a little back to appease the giant foreigner. That reminds me I don't think i've made an accurate description of the people. In Skyrim I was big for a Nord, standing at a little over seven feet . But here I was a virtually a giant. Most of the men came to about five and a half feet, with the women a few inches shorter. They were for the most part a slender people small hands and quick on their feet. Maybe that is why I see an almost complete reliance upon leather armor, though I suppose it is possible that heavier armor may be lying beneath some of their robes. All of their skin was olive in color or darker. Black or dark brown hair seemed to be the only colors available._

 _There was a complete lack of any of the races save for Man. No Mer what so ever. No Wood Elves. No Dark Elves. No High Elves. No Argonians. No Khajiit. No Orcs. Hell I would be glad to see a Falmer or Sload right about now._

* * *

 _I have tried beseeching the Divines for guidance. Despite all my tries my calls went unheard or unheeded. I even attempted to contact the Daedra. Even the Mad God. I have had no such luck. I believe I am alone in this unfamiliar world._

* * *

AN

I get that its actually Qarth but phonetically its Carth something that you would not communicate well to a non speaker. Same for Valerian.


	5. Chapter 5

Dovahkiin: Dragon of the Northeast Chapter 4

 _It has been many lifetimes since I found myself in that desert, and in that time I have come to realize a few things. First and most important is that this is not Nirn. I have consulted maps, religions, scholars, wisemen, shaman, and every other source I could possibly think of. This is not my world, at first I thought I had been cast through time and entered a Dragon Break. A un-time which does and doesn't happen. I eventually ruled this out as. Second, my gods do not reside in this world. Each creation myth is different from what I know, many of the themes are familiar but are different enough that I cannot draw a connection. Even the religions most similar to mine bear little to no resemblace. The names of each god and what they each govern over is different. Third, magic is leaving. I could not feel it at first but as I have become more attuned to this world I can feel the currents of Magicka shifting West. It is a subtle thing like a slow tide receding gently in waves until the sea bed is laid bare. I imagine that the Maegi, Magisters, and Warlocks of Essos don't even notice the slow progression. I doubt anyone other than me actually know whats happening, after all it took me decades to even become aware of it._

 _I had thought to search out where the Magicka was going as I assumed this was the reason why I was here but ultimately decided otherwise. My deciding factor was the people. It is so gradual that no one notices or cares. No great dangers from wayward Wizards, no Liches, no evil Warlock ruling tyrannically over the people. To be sure there is still evil in this world. The powerful and rich subjugate the poor and weak. Slaves are common practice in every major city. They are the foundation of each economy, for me to upset would cause so much bloodshed and death that I cannot be sure the effort would be worth it. While I cannot throw down the systems by force I can guide it slowly in the direction I desire. Often time words are more powerful than the mightiest army or spell. It will be a long process even by my standards but even now I can see a little progress. Whipping has lessened in the last century, it is now seen as beneath a slave owner to whip their servants._

* * *

 _I have seen a few Dragons. But to call them Dovah would be an insult to the great species that dot my homeland. These beasts are predators pure and simple. A mass of scale bone and instinct. I tried contacting them with the Voice. From their reactions I would guess that they could understand me but are unable to respond in kind. While it was disappointing it does at least confirm my theory that the Voice is fundamental aspect of Dragons. But beyond their inability to speak they differ greatly from the beasts of Skyrim. The most glaring, to me at least, is that they reproduce. They. Lay. Eggs! The dragons of Nirn are timeless beings and as such do not need to reproduce. These wyrms do not have control of any element beyond fire. But even that is different, one of the dragons I met tried to set me alight. Its fire burns hotter than just about any of the Nirn Dragons. They also seem to be all but immune to fire itself choosing to live in volcanoes as they do. But truly the greatest difference is their minds, or lack thereof. These creatures are without higher thought, no sense of self. No guile no pride nothing that links them to Akatosh but their general shape. Many of these beasts have been bound by spells of the Valyrian Magisters and are forced into being used as weapons of war and conquest. No Dovah I know would ever be permit themselves to be tamed by any man no matter the circumstances._

* * *

 _I don't know why but my sense of emptiness and boredom that haunted me every day in Nirn does not plague me here. I often wonder if something has been done to make me feel this way or if it is this world itself or maybe the looming reason why i'm here but I am almost at peace with my life. Every once in a while I find myself a wife or a business and spend a few decades in one place. Naturally my lack of aging would draw attention so I am forced to move from time to time. Of all the children I have had, both on Nirn and Essos, none have been blessed with even a drop of my lineage. They may look like me but none have been magically inclined or even affected by my status as the Dragonborn. The only tangible thing I pass on to them is their hair going white early._

 _Most of my families that I've started don't understand what I actually am; to them I describe it as magic granted to me by a Valyrian heritage and a secret that must be kept. But to a few I can tell them the truth of my orgins, and a fewer still even believe me. It is still difficult to watch your children grow, marry, start families, grow into old age, and die. But with my constant need to move around it makes it easier._

* * *

 _I have studied the various Magics of Essos. Some are surprising, but most reside beneath my notice. The shadow binders of the East are particularly notable. My brief study of Shadow Magic on Nirn did not prepare me for all the uses shadows can have._

 _With the lack of ambient magic and the dwindling of natural ability it has become more common for sacrifices to be used. Life is a very powerful fuel for most spells, the taking or gifting of it allows these hedge mages to work what little miracles they can. It is only the Valyrians and their dragon magics that seemed to have survived mostly intact._

* * *

 _I have lived in every major nation and city in Essos. By far my favorite was the hidden city of Braavos. It is unique in that it is a melting pot of so many different peoples and cultures. Even more rare is for them to coexist peacefully. It plays host to hundreds of different religions all of which have some sort of tangible presence in the city. To walk down the street and see a stone Sept next to an Asshai wooden temple is a beautiful thing. And even for those religions long since faded they too still hold a place in the city._

 _My sense of spirituality was awoken from its slumber while in Braavos. With so many different religions disagreeing on so many things it seemed to me as though this worlds gods have long since been absent, and yet these people are just as if not more fervent in their worship than the people of Nirn. I myself was never the most devout of a Nord. I would pray to Talos on the required days or when in need of guidance or strength but I never felt that the he or any of the others had much interest in my life or the lives of any other Man or Mer. That is until Helgen. But even then they were just a fact, Alduin was the eldest of Akatosh and I had to kill him. Even centuries later I felt no connection to the Divines, they were above, beyond, and apart from me. But now that they really are apart from me I find myself leaning into their embrace._

 _I suppose these people pray for their absent gods because they miss them and wish to know their lives have meaning. Both of which are something I have completely grown to understand._

* * *

A/N

Each entry may or may not be right after another. These are are just snippets from a larger collection.

I am changing the scale of Skyrims dragons (and skyrim in general not that that matters right now). I always found that the dragons were too small for my taste. So they will about roughly equal to Peter Jacksons Smaug(terrifying I know). Some bigger, like Alduin in Sovngarde, some smaller.

Taking some liberties with some of Essos' religions as I couldn't find any material to go off of.


	6. Chapter 6

Dovahkiin: Dragon of the North Chapter 5

 _My wife and son were set upon by armed men while we docked in this little town to make repairs to the mast. They looked to be common robbers looking for an easy take. They did not count on my presence or ability. I managed to put down two of them fairly quickly but the other managed to grab my wife and hold her at knife point. He looked like a common thief covered in dirt and rags. The look of abject fear was written across his face, as it should with how easily I put down his friends. Knowing frightened men are more dangerous and unpredictable I used magic to resolve the situation. The_ Dismay _shout was one I never used much, more often then not the enemies I was facing were too powerful for it to have any effect. But on a scrawny half starved thief in over his head it was more than enough. I have never in my life seen someone run away as fast as that man. Both my wife and son are fine if not a little shaken up._

* * *

 _It has been months since it happened. I always thought that anyone who would destroy another's whole life was nothing but a monster, but if those people are monsters what does that make me? When I used the Thu'um agaisnt the man who had taken my Sarra captive I did not know that a Valyrian Magister was in the crowd watching. He observed my unique style of magic and wished to make it his own. He eventually managed to track my ship back to my business in Braavos. Then while I was away he and some of his men attacked my family. My wife was killed in the ordeal while he made off with my son and anything of value. How do I know this? He left behind a politely worded letter. It said if I ever wanted to see my son again I was to travel to Valyria to find him._

* * *

 _I tracked him down in the heart of the Valyrian capital. What occurred there doomed an entire race of people. In a small temple dedicated to their magical arts they held my son chained within a stone circle. As he was just a boy the thick steel bonds rendered him unable to move. I will never forget the look of abject terror on his little face. The tracks of dried tears on his cheeks. The look of pleading in his eyes. Before I could do anything I was hit by some spell of theirs, I could feel the tendrils of their magic bind my body while it was unable to ensnare my mind. That it could affect me at all still lingers in the back of my mind. Their magic is rooted in sacrifice and domination . It is the key to their ability to command dragons as mounts._

 _While I was bound a man whom I assume was the Magister who orchestrated the entire event stepped out from his hiding place. He approached my son as I sat helpless. Without any word reason or hesitation he slit Alvor's throat. As I sat there bound in magic and seeped in loss he began to chant. The sound of his words were drowned out by the thunder of my roar. The Greybeards of High Hrothgar spend almost all of their day silent, save for when using the Voice, because the power of the Thu'um bleeds into their regular speech and is a danger to all. A Greybeard who has spent their life mastering the way of the Voice can shake the Throat of the World with but a whisper. They are not Dovahkiin, they do not hold the souls of dozens of Dragons, they do not have the experience of lifetimes. When a Greybeard roars the mountain rumbles. When a Dovah roars the world quakes. When I roar the world is sundered. In my anger and grief I awoke the Fourteen Fires. I barely managed to get myself and my sons body out of the doomed city in time. In all honesty right now I wish I too had been consumed by the fires._

 _I brought about the end of a people due to my actions, my failings, my weakness. I brought unrest and war to Essos. I brought irrevocable change to the world. I fled. West across the Narrow Sea to the land of Westeros. I will mourn and seek redemption._

* * *

A/N

So these first chapters are the prologue for the actual story that will take place from Roberts Rebellion on.

In a lot of games the Main Character becomes truly epic by the end of the game but then what? A life of normalcy? Boring. In the TES The Hero of Kvatch and the Nerevarine both obtain a form of immortality(Sheogorath and the Corpus), and it is somewhat hinted at that the Dragonborn does too. So whats an immortal badass to do after all the bad guys are dead? Cross over.

The portal at Skuldfn is the perfect vehicle for a cross over with Skyrim both as an entrance to Tamriel and a way out.

The Doom of Valyria is only explained as a natural disaster, kinda boring. I much prefer to think that a Dragon Lord tried to dabble with something beyond their understanding and got burnt by it(literally).

I would like to say that i'll update this regularly but lets be honest. I dont have much beyond the start of the novels outlined and no more chapters written. Updates will be infrequent at best.

So far the story would make a good oneshot.


	7. Chapter 7

In the Wake of Dragons Chapter 7

A/N

So… my writing is going to be changing from chapter to chapter most likely. At least until I decide on the best point of view, and tense, and length, and depth, and etc. So please bear with me until I get it nailed down. For the remaining parts of this story lets say 98% will not be journal entries like the previous chapters. I plan to place short journal entries sporadically at the ends of some chapters though.

* * *

Maester Tomman

It started out as an average day. As the resident Maester of Dragons Pointe my days usually start well before most others much to the great protest of my joints. It was so much easier twenty years ago when I first was assigned here, but like with all things time catches up in the end. I rise from the comfortable embrace of my fur blankets and straw bedding to greet the chilly air of my tower. A deep breath fills my lungs with the miraculous air of this place. Its always felt to me that it was fresher than anywhere else I have ever lived.

My position affords me my own little tower close to the center of village. A squat little thing made of the bland grey stone that is so prominent here in the North. It was constructed for me eighteen years ago by order of the Lord when it was decided that Dragons Pointe had grown large enough to merit needing a Maester. One of the many oddities of this place, I am not domiciled with the governing Lord but placed in the heart of town where I can more easily interact with the common folk.

I begin my day with visiting the Ravens. Truly it is my most important duty, I am responsible for maintaining contact with the rest of the world. Located so far up in the hills above the White Knife we seldom get visitors. These birds are bred at the Maesters Citadel of Old Town and are trained to confer messages over great distances. Even now it amazes me how intelligent these birds truly are, some even capable of simple speech.

The Ravens are located at the top most level of my tower where they can reside close to me but far enough away so that the stench of bird droppings does not consume my home. As I rise up the hand hewn stairs my eyes wander over my home. A simple round room adorned with the objects and instruments of my profession. Shelves and bookcases overflowing with parchment books and tomes of a hundred different disciplines. Off to one side a writing desk filled with past and future correspondence. An extra bed meant for the ill or injured, which if this were any other village would have been used more than four times since my appointment. Next to it a desk full of compartments filled with medicines and powders and instruments of healing. It sits fully stocked but rarely used. And finally at the foot of my bed lay a large trunk, and held within it all the worldly possessions I am allowed by my oaths.

Reaching the top level I am greeted nosily by my flock. Twelve large Ravens safely nestled inside their hanging cages. They started clamoring as soon as they saw me, they have long since come to know who it is that feeds them.

"How are you this morning my friends?" I call out to them.

"Corn! Corn!" A few squawk back at me. Hungry as always.

I fetch the sack of corn from the chest nearby, I learned long ago that if there is any food laying around these birds will stop at nothing to get to it. I give each bird a cursory inspection as I hand out their breakfast. They all seem to be in fine order. Glossy black feathers and mirror like black eyes holding a spark of intelligence.

"I'll need to send a few of you out soon if no messages need be delivered." I tell them. Only a few of the birds get any sort of regular use. Only White Harbor with whom we have business with, or with Castle Cerwyn who's lands we reside on. And only rarely are the Ravens for the Citadel or Kings Landing ever used.

With my duty to the birds fulfilled for now I may break my fast. I head down to the bottom level of my abode. There on the table next to the wooden door lays a basket full of my food for the day. Freshly baked bread, some cured sausage, goats cheese and a pitcher of watered ale. Every day Ida the bakers daughter brings me my food, she and her father are perhaps the only ones in village who rise before I do.

Breakfast was a tasty if simple affair. I head back up to my room where I look over the list of duties that need to be dealt with for the day. Assist the Ladies with taking inventory of her medicines, should take a few hours at most. Start taking inventory of the supplies for the coming winter, the initial count will be fairly time consuming. And finally help the smith run through his ledgers. Another simple day.

It was just past midday when I saw the Raven fly into the rookery of my tower. "Peculiar. We should not be expecting anything for a week yet." I say to Bran the steward of Drgons Pointe. "Let me go check and make sure it is nothing of importance." He waves me away not even bothering to look up from his tally the thought of grain and cured meats consuming his attention.

As I stroll through the village I still cant help but be amazed by the growth ive seen since arriving here. New families moving in each year. New businesses every other. We are fast approaching eight hundred residents and I feel that this time next year we shall have crossed that line. Its funny to think this place all started with a kindness.

The folks here greet me with a nod or kind word as I pass by, each one knowing my name and I them. Sarah and her children Rodric and Sten, farmers from south of the village. Owen apprentice blacksmith out on an errand. Myka the tanner. Eddric the trader. Catlyn a seamstress. It is different from most postings that a Maester would hold, where they would live with the Lord and assist in governing and act as the resident healer. Not here, the Lord would rather I live with the people and help provide a better life for them. And with this being the home of the Lady of Flowers living here it is only very rarely that my healing skills are needed.

As I make my way up the tower I cant help but notice the silence. Usually when a Raven arrives the others make a large commotion, but all that greets me when I arrive is silence. "A dark premonition." I whisper to myself.

The new raven sits quietly on the windowsill a small roll of paper tied to its leg. I relieve it of its burden and place a bowl of water and a pile of corn out for it. At the sight of the food the rest of the birds sound off in jealousy. _Corn! Corn!_

As I read the message my heart cant help but sink.

 _ **Rickard Stark Lord of Winterfell and his heir Brandon Stark while in Kings Landing in an effort to retrieve Lyanna Stark who had been kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar Tagaryen have been murdered by the order of Aerys Targaryen the Mad King. Lords Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon have risen up in rebellion. All Lords of the North are hereby ordered to prepare for war.**_

 _ **-Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North**_

A second smaller note was written on the back.

 _ **You are hereby ordered to take account of all available fighting men and resources and report to Castle Cerwyn in six days time to join the Northern Army.**_

 _ **-Rorik Cerwyn, Lord of Castle Cerwyn.**_

* * *

A/N

Let me get this out of the way. This is not about the Dragonborn fixing Westeros, or becoming king, or using magic to get his way, or laying waste to the Lannisters. Im saving that for a companion piece to this story (it will be a total crack fic by the way). This will be about the DB working within the confines of world he lives in (mostly). I am still undecided at this point in time where I will end this story, could be at the end of GoT(book) could be at the end of Roberts rebellion.


End file.
